Rather than interrupting what they were doing, he chose to remain where he was in order to get a better understanding of what the humans in the New World were capable of. Besides, he stared up at the sky, at the scalding heat of the mid-morning sun, there shouldn't be any problems.
"They're sending only one person?" Dillan spoke in confusion just as the Basilisk and Barghest were summoned.
The two beasts stood several heads taller than an average human and were bound by magical chains that were the work of the Adventurers that had captured them. The Basilisk's eyes were covered by thick swaths of cloth to prevent the use of their petrification skill on the handlers and the rest of its snake-like body struggled against its bindings. It was the same for the Barghest, a black wolf-like beast with protruding canines from its maw dripping with saliva after a number of days starved. Its eyes were currently narrowed into slits that quickly widened.
Barghests not only possessed the means to utilize innate magical abilities, but they were also a highly intelligent form of magical beast.
It howled in agitation, biting violently at the chains which bound its body. For it felt only death would come if it didn't struggle.
The scent of ash and cinder slowly wafted into its nose, an intangible heat causing sweat to form on the Barghest's face as its struggle intensified.
It wasn't a human that was in front of it.
It was the Sun itself.
Ripples of unseen magical power caused its hairs to stand on end while the Basilisk continued to remain none the wiser, growling and thrashing.
"Oh? You can sense it?" A calm voice spoke out, causing the Barghest to freeze before letting out submissive low whines.
Marteo and Dillan were dumfounded, the former yelling hysterically for the release of the Basilisk.
"Even now you do not understand?"
The power of the Sun, all encompassing and all seeing. A strength that denoted a power unbound, greater than that of even the deepest sea and sky. Something that not even the foremost Knights of the Round could ever compete with and that all Players in YGGDRASIL had to understand.
A single phrase.
A single question whose impact determined the lives of all enemies and invaders wishing to cross the boundary of the Holy Gates of Camelot guarded by only one man alone. One NPC whose unique skill made him nearly nigh invincible.
"I ask of you," a harsh tone, filled with unbridled confidence bordering on arrogance and pride. "Do you not know what time of day it is?"
The sun shone brightly amidst the clouds, the lustrous rays of light piercing through the forest canopy and basking Gawain in their grandeur just as the Basilisk was released, charging towards him.
Sharp eyes narrowed, a blade erupting forth with scorching flames that smoldered the very earth, bubbles forming in the mud and gravel from the heat alone. The very world seemed to burn.
None on Dillan's side dared to breath as the Basilisk drew closer to what was akin to an illusory Demon of Flame.
And in the moment, as the world reached its twilight and all was encompassed within a blinding brilliance, a single statement resounded to the confusion of all ignorant.
"It's High-Noon."
Holy City Camelot: Part 5
It was the power of the sun stored within the confines of a single sword.
Radiant, dazzling, a disposition greater than that of even King Arthur at the crux of midday.
It was called the Numeral of the Saint.
A divine providence displayed at its maximum when the sun loomed directly overhead. It was the scorching flare of the sun, arid, and stale, unrelenting in its ferocity and significantly increasing Gawain's abilities in all parameters.
The Blessed Numeral of Three, the sacred number of the Celtic Deities.
All Dillan, Marteo, and the others saw before them was a blinding flash of light. Their bodies began to shudder, and to their horror, their skin began to flake off like ash. There was no activation of any kind of magic, no ritual, or arcane circle to indicate any kind of catalyst either.
Which meant to say, everything that was happening was due to Gawain himself, a feat impossible for any common human in the New World to accomplish.
It was enough to get Marteo's mind to blank, yet for Dillan it was different.
He had always been well learned and had paid constant attention to details regarding information outside of the Kingdom to broaden his perspectives. As such, he knew of a description that suited the individual before him.
A special term passed down from the distant Slane Theocracy to describe such living monsters of humanity directly related to the Six Great Gods.
"G-Godkin," he stuttered, expression paling further when he looked at Arturia and the rest. For Gawain was sent forward on Arturia's instruction.
In which case, didn't that mean that the man that he, Marteo, and everyone else was fighting was only a subordinate Godkin?
The implication of this line of thought terrified him, his body freezing, unable to flee.
Yet it didn't matter.
Nothing did.
Not when the inferno came crashing down in a wall of revolving flames.
Nothing could escape it for not only was it too fast, but the burns on their bodies already severely injured them.
As the wave of heat fully engulfed and carbonized all, only one thought surfaced in Dillan's mind.
From where did the Berferd heir recruit such monsters?
As the dust settled and the embers snuffed out, Gawain stared impassively at the charred area in front of him, smoke billowing into the air and crows cawing in the distance. He didn't enjoy killing those far weaker than him, but it was also part of his righteousness to never deprive his enemies the courtesy of going all out. For holding back in any duel or conflict was the same as humiliating and demeaning the other party.
Work done, he sheathed his sword and faced Arturia.